


Caspian the Seafarer, Beyond the Crown, Excerpts From His Personal Poetry

by Quecksilver_Eyes



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen, M/M, and caspian needs to unlearn things, and we love him, caspian writes poetry to cope with things, he is a pining mess, hi i spent the past month rping so be prepared for ic caspian poems, miraz is an abusive ass and a dictator and he deserves to rot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-08-14 16:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16496429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quecksilver_Eyes/pseuds/Quecksilver_Eyes
Summary: "He smells of / rain and old pine trees / of herbs and soft laughter"A series of poems from King Caspian's private collection, published posthumously





	1. My Love

He smells of  
              rain and old pine trees  
              of herbs and soft laughter

My people call him  
              wild  
                             barbaric  
                                            horrid man  
              frothing at the mouth

He wields  
              two swords  
              and a silver tongue  
                             a double edged smile

But he looks at me  
              his eyes  
                             like the woods he governs

And if he was  
              to kill me  
              smiling, eyes alight

Oh by the lion  
what a way to die

\- King Caspian the Seafarer, “My love“


	2. Familial Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kings and queens of old are children, still, with wet hands and wet eyes and their eyes are human, in the dull light. They spit out your name, their faces twisted and I can only think of all this brown clinging to you. I love you.

1\.       I am born and scream until my skin is stained red. You look at me and your eyes are made of ice, your hands iron. I am born and my father’s blood drips from your throat and child that I am, I cannot see anything but stained linen. I love you.

2\.       I am a child and my wet nurse disappears. She tells me of history, of wondrous things, of creatures not quite human, not quite beast. When I tell you, you laugh and my wet nurse disappears. I love you, still.

3\.       I am still a child when Cornelius drags me from my bed and makes me run, still a child when you have your own and want my blood on your hands, now. Cornelius is a weight against me, beckons me closer, draws me away and all I can think of are your eyes. I love you.

4\.       The kings and queens of old are children, still, with wet hands and wet eyes and their eyes are human, in the dull light. They spit out your name, their faces twisted and I can only think of all this brown clinging to you. I love you.

5\.       The land and all that you’ve slaughtered rises against you, raging and bloodied and the magnificent duels you under the smothering sun. He beats you, and my heart stills in my chest. The dwarfs sneer, the dryads groan and I love you, still.

6\.       You’re family. You’re family and your eyes are ice, your hands iron-red and I cannot kill you.

7\.       I am unlearning this love for you. You do not deserve it.

\- King Caspian the Seafarer, “Familial Bonds“


	3. The End of my World in Two Parts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a tree in the courtyard, right before my window and it is as still as the air dripping through the windows. The smell of autumn is heavy and like iron on my lips and my wet nurse cradles me in her soft, worn, oh so soft hands, her voice a song and a gust of wind settling under my skin.

There’s a tree in the courtyard, right before my window and it is as still as the air dripping through the windows. The smell of autumn is heavy and like iron on my lips and my wet nurse cradles me in her soft, worn, oh so soft hands, her voice a song and a gust of wind settling under my skin.

She tells me of all that you are suffocating, tells me of all that you are hiding and hollowing out until there is nothing but a husk in your stained hands. “Look at the world”, she says as she braids my hair. “Look at the world, my Prince, and tell me what you see.”

You look at the world, too, and see nothing but tinder and embers to burn down, see nothing but trees bending and breaking under axes and shovels. You look at my wet nurse, and the tree in the courtyard, look at my smile and my wild hair and call it barbarian, call it monstrous.

You look at my wet nurse and scowl.

The next morning, the tree is gone, its roots pulled out of the dying earth, its leaves gathering on the tiled floor. The next morning, my wet nurse doesn’t wake me.

I look at the world I know and see no green anymore, only stone and cold, viscous air settling sluggish in my lungs and in every crack. My world is this castle and my world is you.

When I am a child, you take my world from me and I look into wood-green eyes and face legends and fairy tales and _oh_ , what have you done?

\- King Caspian the Seafarer, “The End of my World in Two Parts“


End file.
